Upstart
by Greybowtie
Summary: He asked for a room mate. That's all he ever asked for. A quiet, I-won't-get-in-your-way-or-business-one. Instead, he was granted with a loud, hey-Kristoff-do-you-wanna-see-how-many-marshmallows-I-can-stuff-in-my-cheeks-one and then some. Christ.


_"_Don't worry_," _She murmured, "You should see what I did to the other guy." She leaned against his door frame for a few seconds until Kristoff grew sense to stop gaping. _She's joking, _he thinks as he spares her a backward glance.

Five minutes later, he still doesn't ask about the bruises that trace her chin, or the strands of hair that managed to loosen up from the neat braids she tied up this morning. A darkening red color stained her lower lip- it does not look like the shade she wears normally. In fact, Kristoff swears that the stain was darker than it was a minute ago. It's two in the morning and he has a term paper to submit by ten for crying out loud. Did she seriously need to pick this godforsaken hour to intrude? Because the last thing on his mind now is to finishing the assignment; it was as if the idea shuffled out the door the moment she barged in. A new idea appeared-where could he get some bandages and ice? Four blocks and buckets of rain later, he shuffled into the apartment, completely soaked.

He asked for a roommate-that's all he ever asked for. The quiet, I-won't-get-in-your-way-or-business-one. Instead, he was granted with the loud, hey-Kristoff-do-you-wanna-see-how-many-marshmallows-I-can-stuff-in-my-cheeks? Oh-hold-up,-let-me-get-into-a-fight-because-this-is-apparently-a-fight-club, one _and then some_. _Christ_.

He still refuses to acknowledge the all of what this implies, even after his eyes skim over the hues of light purple that ran along the edge of her jaw. There's just no way Anna, of all people, would get into a fight. _It's just_-he shakes his head- _not a thing she would do_. Still, the thought mulls over as he stares at her. She's nursing her chin with an ice pack he gave her a few minutes ago, condensation collecting on her bruised spot.

"Jeez. You got into a fight with what? The floor?" He mutters. "From the looks of it, you seemed to have fallen chin first. Ouch." He adds, grimacing.

"The guy was built like a brick wall-so you're pretty close." She retorts. _She still has the nerve to smile and be all cheeky_, Kristoff thinks, _even though she looks like she lost the fight-if there ever was one_.

They've been living together for a little bit over three months now, and he knows only because Anna kept a colorful calender tacked up on the wall of their living room apartment. She crossed 64 days off with a pink marker. She also bakes a carrot cake at the end of each month and insists he tries. Not that he's complaining, since it's he is partial to the particular treat, but _who does that? _The first cake she baked was a complete disaster and the only thing that saved it was the store brought frosting. He still remembers the put off look she had in her face when she tried it herself. She grimaced at first, and then gave a forced smile, her lip trembling at the end. If he knew the situation differently then, he would have thought she was overacting-she tends to do that anyway. But he,unfortunately, knew the source of her disappointment. She gushed on and on two weeks prior about this _amazing_ guy she met at her college art gallery. It appears that they both attended the same college. The two exchanged numbers, had a date the next day, and suddenly she tells Kristoff- no, more like yells it out to him (he was showering and couldn't hear her due to the running water and closed door) that he might be the one. Hans was his name and Kristoff only bothered to remember such a trivial matter because his love-struck roommate won't shut up about him. When she wasn't talking about him, she was talking to him, behind the closed door to her room murmuring and giggling in between breaths.

The guy's birthday had been three months away and Anna probably wanted to get into the habit of baking a cake-or anything edible. If you asked Kristoff, this whole ordeal was happening too fast. He never seen the guy, and in the rare moments where he does ask about him, Anna supplied him with vague answers. If Kristoff knew anything about Anna, was that she liked fast. The second cake was marginally better, leaving her looking a bit defeated but still determined to get it right. At that point, he wanted to tell her to give it up, that she more or less knew this Hans for two weeks at best. But she had her mind set already to perfect this task, so he remained silent, reluctantly shoveling cake into his mouth (much to Anna's surprise). By the time she baked the carrot cake celebrating their two months of being roommates, she had gotten much better. Kristoff thanked the heavens (and Anna's effort), for not spoiling his favorite dessert the second time around. When he told her this, she feigned shock, scooping some cream and smearing it over his nose. They went on a chase that night, grabbing bits of cake as ammunition and making a mess of one another. When the fiasco was finally over and she cried mercy, she was still giggling. And he was too, despite getting cream all over his shirt. They stayed up until the crack of dawn, cleaning up the mess and themselves. When she asked if this means they were forbidden from celebrating their monthly anniversaries, he laughed and said that he wanted cupcakes to go with the cake next time. He never seen her eyes light up like that.

She left on the third month to visit Hans. And although Kristoff told himself that Anna had the habit of staying out a bit late, when the clock hit eleven p.m, he started to worry. She came back at eleven thirty, bringing a crumbled looking box, and red streaked eyes. She was leaning against the door frame, and when her eyes met his, she whispered if it was too late to celebrate their monthly anniversary. The inside of the box was smeared in cream and the cupcakes were squashed along with the cake. _Sure, _Kristoff remembers muttering. Anna was quiet that night, the first time she was ever muted. When he couldn't take it any longer, he asked about what happened. She only responded that Hans did love someone, just not her.

"I got played," She laughed a little bit too lightly, "...he told me I was very foolish to wear my heart on my sleeve- that no one would want me if I acted as desperate as I looked with him." She paused momentarily and looked at the blond. "I guess being fast doesn't guarantee a safe trip to the finish line." She whispered. She didn't cry, at least, not in front of him but her stillness left him unease. His fists were balled. He wanted to tell her that love was no contest, that there was no finish line that marked a person's affection but he stayed silent, letting her head rest against his shoulder.

A few days later, she stopped baking for a while and was less talkative. And yet, Kristoff knew she wasn't distressed. She didn't share the somber look she had when she was first heartbroken; she looked lost in thought. She would keep her laugh, and a one week after the incident, she was still able to drag him out of the apartment more times than he could to her. If he could confirm anything about Anna, he could safely say that she liked fast, and being fast, to her, was the best way to bounce back. The incident didn't mellow her out too much-in fact, she was still daring and energetic. Sometimes, _much so_, Kristoff thinks, as he eyes her current bruises. Daylight is starting to break, and Kristoff wonders how much time he has until class starts. Early morning talks and cups of coffee with your upstart roommate can take up a lot of time, as well as a page written for a report in between said talk of course. She doesn't have class today yet insists on walking him to campus. Grabbing a pretty green scarf and applying some lip stick to hide the bruises, she soon joins him outside.

Other students were meandering around, heading off to early morning classes.

"Jeez. Did you see that one? Seems like you weren't the only one who lost against a brick wall last night." Kristoff mutters. And it would seem so, the student that swerved by them had a cut on his lower lip, a black eye, as well as pink and light purple splotches decorating his jaw and skin below it. His necktie could only hide so much.

Maybe it was the coffee, or the the lack of sleep, but Kristoff thought her heard Anna assert, "He is the brick wall," as she spared a backward glance at the retreating tall student with auburn hair, and bruises. It was only until her gaze left him that the student returned a glimpse back, surveying the couple, with his brow furrowed.

"Kristoff?" Anna begins, as they make their way towards his classroom, "By the end of this month, how would you feel about chocolate cake?"

"Let's just hope you don't ruin another one of my favorite desserts," Kristoff smirks, dodging her playful slap on the arm before heading into the classroom.


End file.
